Wednesday, April 30, 2008

In the beginning

This post is inspired by the way my improv class started last night. The instructor went around the room asking this question of everyone in class:

"What's the first thing you remember? "

My earliest memories, in no particular order:

I remember seeing the orange and yellow swirl label on a Capitol Records 45 rpm single by the Beatles (I'm pretty sure it was "I Wanna Hold Your Hand"). I think the reason I remember it so well is that it looked different when it was still than it looked when it was spinning on the turntable. When it was spinning, it sometimes looked like one color, sometimes like two colors. I remember that this happened in my aunt's bedroom in south Georgia [but my sister informs me that I remember incorrectly and that the single actually belonged to her]. My aunt introduced us to Sonny and Cher, the Beatles and "Last Kiss."

I remember hitting my head and having to have two stitches. I don't remember the actual fall, though. What I remember is my parents explaining to me what had happened and trying to describe it to me. It was on the back of my head, and I was frustrated that I couldn't see the stitches. Every time I moved to try to look at it, the back of my head moved, too.

I remember seeing the Boogie Man (aka "the Booger Man") outside my second-story bedroom window. He looked kind of like the Grinch, only a darker green and with longer hair. My parents tried to convince me that it was just a tree branch, but even to this day, I know better. I also remember being confused, because it seemed logical to me that the Booger Man should be made of boogers, not of hair.

I remember sitting under the ironing board while my mother was ironing. I was playing with a ball or some blocks, something simple like that. My mother was ironing a smock that was decorated with different styles of clocks showing different times, with ribbons weaving between them reading, "Haste makes waste" and "He who hesitates is lost" (or some such similar sayings). I was watching the clocks move up and down and from side to side as my mother ironed the smock. I asked her, "We're moving in three days, right?" She answered patiently, "Yes, that's right. Three days." "How much is three days?"

Right after we moved, I remember meeting the little girl from next door. She came running over happily to introduce herself. I threw a rock at her and hit her in the head. I don't know why I did it, and I felt horrible for having done it immediately after I did it -- partly, I think, because I had intended my throw to miss her, so actually hitting her was an accident. Although this must have made for a terribly awkward introduction into the neighborhood, my parents' friendship with those neighbors continues to this day.

2 comments:

OK. I remember some of this. The record, "I Want to Hold Your Hand," was mine. I bought it when I was 6 and we lived on Miles Road. My friend across the street, Betty Sue Zinovage (sp?), and I danced and danced to it.